Drawing Toward Silence
by Knightfall1138
Summary: Chronicles the final days of the illegal mining operation on Aegis VII.
1. The Line

Dead Space

"Drawing Toward Silence"

* * *

><p><strong>The Line<strong>

The other day, I was sharing a beer with Vancil and he started talking about how he felt guilty about the mining operation. Altman help me, I swear he was about to start crying. He told me, over and over, that we shouldn't be here, that we would be punished eternally for every bootprint left upon this planet's surface. Downer talk. He didn't drink very much after that, but I eventually got him to calm down.

He's got a family back on Mars, you see, and the recycling tax they've got on the oxygen has been forcing a lot of people to pick up and move elsewhere. They usually have no choice but to wedge themselves beneath one of Earth's sprawls and work their way out of obscurity and into mediocrity. "You don't want that for your family," I told him. "And if someone catches us, we won't even be the ones to be fined or _punished_. The CEC will be taking the heat for this one."

Vancil nodded for a good long moment. "Yeah," he said and sniffed back tears. "Sometimes I wonder if it'll be different this time."

"I don't see why it would be."

"_We_ don't see," he corrected, and clumsily pushed himself up out of his seat. "Famous last words." He left the bar. The next day he logged one of his sick days; not sure if it was on account of the drink or if the operation truly bothered him that much. But, the day after that, he showed up, business as usual.

We didn't talk about what he'd said. I tend to think he's just been dwelling on his family lately. He misses them, and his boy's asthma ensured that they wouldn't be able to make the move out here. Space travel doesn't agree with the kid, he says. He gets real panicky real easy. Vancil says this a lot, and sometimes I wonder why.

—

Got called off the line early today. Apparently, the surveyor finally made the trip out to our site and gave the foreman the good news: the mineral makeup along the line wasn't as solid as they'd thought. Less explosives, less drilling, and less workers would be needed, and we'd be finishing our point of fracture (POF) a week and a half ahead of schedule. Everybody cheered, hoping the other sites along the line could hear us.

Makes no nevermind to me; we get paid either way. As long as that cork gets popped without crumbling or getting hitched on a mineral deposit, we're right as rain. Ah! That's something I miss well enough. Haven't been beneath a good downpour in ages.

I'll see if Vancil is up for a movie tonight. I'm not very anxious to lead him back to the bar any time soon.

—

We must be way ahead of schedule because the team at our POF was already setting up the anchor for the gravity tether. Wasn't a complicated job, since we already had the hole drilled for it. Lots of lifting, pushing, and heave-hoing. We got it locked down and powered before noon, and I hear the other sites are only days away from doing the same thing.

Things are going so smoothly, I hear we've already gotten surveyor certification to call down a planet cracker from the CEC. Don't know if they've done it or not, but if they have, we could be off this rock within the next month or so, provided the pop goes well.

Spotted Vancil smiling today. Now that the job's almost done, we're all seeing credit signs dancing around our heads. And if the mineral yield is as high as the surveyors say, we'll all get a pretty hefty commission if it's above forty-five percent. None of us will have to work one of these dead planets for a good long time.

—

Vancil and I watched a cheesy drama film last night, something starring Peng. It didn't really have a plot, but they did take any chance they could to get her on screen in some way or another. We got a good laugh out of it, pointing out the weird contradictions and plotholes bigger than the ones we we're digging outside. It was fun, combined with the knowledge that we'd all be leaving soon, it was the really good kind.

I think that's what really calmed the guy down. Sometimes you lose sight of the reasons you go to planets like Aegis Seven in the first place. It all gets lost between monotony and several million tons of rock. He was going to see his family again, and he'd do it with a pocketful of hard-won cash. It must have been like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel for the first time.

Me? I live for this job. It's all the exploration I'd ever want without joining the military, taking a bullet from some lowlife seditionist in the process. Cracking open a planet: there's a certain high to it all. It's a beautiful sight.

Vancil left after the movie, and I think he left happy. Just as I was falling asleep, Estrella stopped by, a bottle of champagne tucked under her arm. She insisted that we have sex before she told me the good news, so I obliged, feigning impatience the entire time. When we were finished, she popped the cork on the bottle and poured us a couple of glasses.

She'd just overheard one of our foremen talking to his superiors. The planet cracker was already en route to Aegis Seven. "Oh, and it gets better," she said. "The _Ishimura_ herself is gonna be the one to crack this bastard."


	2. The Marker

**The Marker**

Everyone's excited about the _Ishimura_ coming out to our little corner of the galaxy, and with good reason. That particular planet cracker is pretty much a celebrity among folks of our profession. The thing has so much history to it, it was pretty much a legend before it was even christened and launched out of the shipyards. And we've all heard the promotions in one way or another: _Sixty-two years of continuous service. It holds the record for highest number of planet cracks, with thirty-four to date, and highest dead weight of refined product at fourteen trillion kilotons and counting!_

As you can tell, I've heard that promo _way_ too much—but it doesn't even come close to doing that vessel justice. The _U.S.G. Ishimura_ cracked the first planet I ever worked on. It was done with one terribly loud, earthtrembling yank, and that chunk of rock the size of Veritas went skyward with all the swiftness of a small shuttle. It was an unsettling feeling, watching part of the planet return to the heavens, like observing a stellar unbirth.

All the planet cracks I've seen since then have paled in comparison. The rest of the fleet doesn't have the power or the mythos behind them to even attempt to make the kind of impression the _Ishimura_ did. I'll be glad to see it in action again.

And who knows? We might be seeing a bit of history-in-the-making here. From what I've learned, the vessel is on the fast track toward being decommissioned. After Aegis Seven, it'll probably be hollowed out and kicked into orbit around Titan as a tourist's attraction. A better fate than being stripped down for parts, a dead husk to be exploited into nothingness.

Maybe I can convince the foreman to give me shuttle access so I can watch the _Ishimura_ crack the planet from its bridge. I've heard that some workers are given that privilege if they've earned it along the way. I think it'd be a sight to see from space.

—

There's been some trouble out at one of the northernmost POFs. All of the anchors are in place except for one, and rumor has it that it's on account of some "unexpected finding." In my experience, that means a deposit that the surveyors missed. It's always the damn surveyors.

The solution could be as simple as one carefully-placed explosive; or as complicated as a week's worth of calculations, another week's worth of drilling, followed by more carefully-placed explosives. You can never tell what sort of bind ignorance can get you caught up in. I'm preparing for the worst, but I don't think they would have sent off for the _Ishimura_ if it was something that couldn't be fixed quickly.

In any case, it's not my site, not my POF, not my problem. Just gonna have to wait and see, and honestly that's that hardest part of this job.

—

It must not have been a big problem, because the anchor went in today without the need for explosives. Didn't think they'd make a try for it, since this dust storm's been tearing the colony a new one, but they took a bunch of vehicles out there blind and came back before dark.

Vancil thinks the crew brought something back with them. I'm not sure what he's basing this on, but he seems pretty sure about it. Sometimes the company gets all antsy like this when gold or diamonds are found at a site. It gets removed quick, clean, and is sealed away before any of the miners can get at it. There's a clause in our contract that keeps us from pocketing valuable gems and minerals, but it happens regardless.

But Vancil wasn't telling me this all matter-of-factly; he sounded anxious. Scared, even. I'm not gonna lie, he creeped me out with that talk, but it's not like he has a sixth sense about these things. Still, he seemed dead sure that something was wrong. I haven't seen him since this morning, and he hasn't been in his room. He might just be ignoring my calls, but I can't imagine why.

—

Woke up today to find most of the western end of the colony emptied. The dust storm had died down, so I briefly wondered if everybody had gone outside for some fresh air. But looking out one of the windows, I saw nothing. No maintenance crews, no miners on their breaks, no random pedestrians. Nothing. It was odd. At times like that, you have thoughts of rapture, of turning a corner to find emptied suits and uniforms.

A young man crossed my path running and nearly disappeared down the next hallway, but I managed to get his attention. Maybe another sinner like myself. "Hey, where the hell is everyone?" I think I came across as more threatening than I had intended because the kid froze right up.

"Sorry!" he said quickly. I felt bad. "Everyone's over in the hanger. They found something out there on the line."

"What'd they find?"

He looked nervous. "That's what I was running to find out." He took a step back. "Sorry," he repeated.

"No, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to be short with you. So, you have no idea what it is? Was it gold?" Only a gold nugget the size of a shuttle could pull a whole wing of the colony away from their duties.

"I think it's something else, sir. I saw folks crying, and they took a whole mess of people who'd fainted over to the infirmary."

"Wha—?" I decided to stop wasting time and just find out for myself. "Lead the way, kid."

He nodded and took off down the hall, myself in tow. We passed through the entire wing to get to the hanger and I saw nobody at all. I had to jump over bits of debris—paper, books, coffee mugs, cans of SUN—as if people had just dropped what they'd been doing and left. As if; that's probably exactly what happened.

We rounded one more corner, passed through the large hatchway into the hanger, and nearly ran headlong into a vast crowd. I immediately lost the kid in the shuffle. This wasn't just the western wing; it looked like half the damned colony had decided to crowd themselves inside the small hanger, built to hold a few shuttles and random equipment. The crowd had already spilled out onto the outer pathway.

Everyone was shouting at the top of their lungs, waving their arms, or down on their knees. It looked like they were praying. I tried to push through, but no one would budge. Someone yelled not three inches from my ear, "This is our fucking life, man! This is our destiny!" I swear he nearly blew out my eardrum.

I gave up breaking through the crowd, and every time I got someone's attention, they couldn't hear a word I said and vice versa. So I backed up and kept backing up until I hit the wall, which I followed to the next exit. I nearly tripped over a collection of lit candles and flowers trying to get back into the colony proper.

After a moment of relaxing quiet, I remembered that there was a room overlooking the hangar, and that a buddy of mine was stationed up there from time to time. Even if he wasn't, maybe there was someone who could tell me what the bloody hell was happening.

At the end of the hall, I used one of my keys to access the maintenance passage, and immediately on the other side was the entrance to the stairwell. The door into the room was locked, so I started banging on it. "Hey, Singh, you in there? Could you let me in?" I pounded on the door a few more times and, thankfully, Singh came around to open the door. He looked exhausted.

"Came to get a front row seat?" he asked with a smile.

"Man, I have no idea what the fuck's going on around here. I've got people lighting candles, shouting, pushing, shoving." I walked inside and he closed the door behind me. "What's going on down there?"

He favored me with an incredulous look and shook his head slightly. "I can't say. You've gotta see it for yourself." He led me toward the window that overlooked the hanger's interior. The crowd had formed around something massive in the middle of the floor. It was a formation of black stone that resembled the pincer of a crab, inlaid with odd designs that seemed to glow bright red.

People fought to get near it, but a ring made up of colony security guards brandishing high-powered stun guns stood in their way. They waved their guns around, trying to look menacing, but I knew they had more or less drawn security duty from a hat. They wouldn't be shooting anyone.

I took a break from my awing and asked Singh, "Where'd it come from?"

He shrugged. "It came back with the convoy that installed the last anchor yesterday. I think they found it out there."

"That can't be right."

"I know what I saw, and I know we didn't bring it with us."

"That looks exactly like—"

"Yes, it does," Singh said. "And I'm sure most of the people in that crowd are thinking the same thing."

I wasn't a Unitologist myself, but that didn't mean I was ignorant of their philosophy, their history, their icons. Whether or not it was true that it had been pulled from the line, I knew what it looked like.

The Marker. And as they say in the same breath: Altman be praised.


	3. The Passage

**The Passage**

The anchors are set, the fractures are made: the cork is ready to be popped. All we have to do is wait, which, as I've said before, is the hardest part of the job. Our money, our benefits, and our tickets home all rely on the swiftness of whichever planet cracker the CEC sends our way. Though, this is the _Ishimura_ after all, so I suppose I'm feeling something closer to anticipation than anything resembling boredom.

Everyone's waiting, but most of them are doing this by the Marker. The crowd had thinned down, calmed, so the security guards were given the okay to leave. Of the people who remained, some hesitated to get close to the Marker out of respect, some pressed their faces upon it and embraced it full in arms, their fingers tracing the inlaid, alien patterns. The crying and praying, as far as I know, hasn't stopped all day.

But who can blame them? How often does one truly have the central icon of their religion fall right into their lap? Some must be thinking that Altman himself isn't too far behind.

I shared a few drinks with Singh while we talked at length about the implications of this whole thing before I made my way back to my room. On the way, I checked Vancil's room. I knocked loudly, but he wasn't there; if he was, he didn't want anyone to think so.

Estrella was walking away from the door to my room, and I caught her before she could get too far away. She talked my ear off immediately. "Did you see it! Tell me you saw it. _Por la Gracia de Altman_, it was beautiful!"

She had started hugging me at some point. Singh's bootleg liquor was still working its way through me, so I didn't really notice until her face was against my chest. "Yeah, I saw it. It was, erm, _cool_."

"Just think about it. Once it's taken into the embrace of our brothers and sisters, the galaxy will be a better place for it. No more war, no more famine, and never another _death_ as people think they know it. Now everyone will see." She ran a finger across my cheek. "_You_ will see," she said excitedly.

"Good to know." I couldn't hide my discomfort. "You wanna come inside?"

She nodded and led the way. Our coitus was a little more, ah... _passionate_ than usual. I thought such rides were reserved only for men come home from the frontlines. In combination with the drink, I didn't know which way was up. She lay back and put her arms around me, kissing me at random intervals. It was definitely atypical behavior for Estrella, but I didn't really mind.

As I drifted off, I remember her kissing my cheek and whispering something that I almost didn't hear.

"Soon, we'll be made whole."

—

I checked Vancil's room again this morning and he's still not around. At this point, I'm not really worried about his privacy anymore; I'm just plain worried. I contacted security, so they should be by to unlock his room at their behest. They're usually really good about stuff like this. It's not like they have much else to do these days, what with the project winding down.

Estrella hasn't been around today. I hope she calmed down from last night. She's found a new brand of sweetness that's starting to border on unsettling, but, then again, I'm trying to keep in mind how much of a big deal this Marker business is. I'm not sure I'm properly comprehending the magnitude of the whole thing. Sensitivity is the key to unlocking many, many doors.

I'm gonna go check in with my site foreman and see if there's any work to be done off the POF. That anticipation in waiting I was talking about is starting to swing toward frustration. I'm getting restless.

—

Vancil's dead.


	4. The Meeting

**The Meeting**

We buried Vancil just on the other side of the hill, where the workers wouldn't see a grave marker every time they went about their duties. A Unitologist priest said a few very kind words and then allowed us to lower the casket. Not many turned out for the funeral, though I'm not so sure very many heard of it. The excitement over the Marker along with the arrival of the _Ishimura_ in low orbit was a decent enough distraction.

I'm not very excited anymore; not about the _Ishimura_, the imminent cracking, or going home. Since I was Vancil's closest friend, the job of explaining to his family the nature of his death informally fell to me. It's not something I'm looking forward to. How do you even start with a matter like this? Open a vidlink with his wife, crack a joke, and just dive right into the heart of it?

I wish someone would tell me how.

Estrella attended the funeral, though I think it was only for my sake. She was never very fond of Vancil, though he was never very open to making friends. I had to work two planetcracks before we even started getting chatty, and then one more before we had a drink together. Vancil was a good, honest man who only wanted to do right by his family. Having fun made him feel guilty when he remembered his wife and kid were back on Mars paying for their oxygen.

He didn't deserve this. Why couldn't he see that?

—

It was odd that the usual ceremonies were skipped when the _Ishimura_'s team landed today. There's always great fanfare, for as long as I can remember. The crew walks out, the colony empties and crowds around to meet them. The foremen shake hands with the crew and the whole to-do is shot into space via vidlink.

I saw the shuttle land, though there was nothing on the schedule. There was no cheering, no vidlink, and no hands were shaken. The shuttle landed near the hangar where the Marker was being kept, and I heard people complaining (loudly) that they'd been kicked out of the hangar in the middle of worship. All to make way for the crew.

I know there's excitement over this thing, but I didn't think they'd forgo the whole tradition because of a silly statue. The meeting is tradition, that's the way it's always been; ever since I joined up.

It's _tradition_. They shouldn't have fucked with it!

—

I've been going over how we found Vancil the other day, over and over in my mind. It's been giving me a headache. The guards had shown up earlier than usual and we made small talk while one of them tried to get Vancil's door open with their key. The lock stayed red.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't know. This, ah... This should've opened it."

"Is it the wrong key?"

He sighed. "It's the right key," he replied, leaving zero room for argument. "Something's wrong with the lock."

"Should I call one of the technicians over?"

"Nah, it's okay. We just have to free up the door." He motioned to his partner, and the two of them each inserted some kind of metal tool into the padlock. There was a click and the door shuddered. The light went green. "Who needs a technician?" he scoffed.

I had held up my arms. "Okay, sorry. I'm just worried about my friend."

He started to force the door open, causing gears to whine. "Are you sure he's not out swimming in that crowd around the Marker?"

"Didn't think he would be," I said. "He's not very religious."

"Maybe he couldn't help it. Seeing that thing in the hangar, maybe he got with it in a hurry."

I shrugged. "He's not really the type—"

_"Fuck!"_ The guard slipped onto his back and pushed himself to the other side of the hallway.

"What's wrong?"

He ignored me and shouted into his comlink, "Get a fucking medic down here! Subsection thirty-three! Now!"

I couldn't see what they were seeing. The second guard looked inside the room, turned, fell to his knees and retched. "Oh my god!" he said between gasps.

Knowing what I know now, I don't think I would have ever looked. But I did, and the first thing I saw was the blood, pooling at the doorway. Thinking Vancil was hurt, I rushed in blind, nearly slipping in the blood. It took a moment or two before I was able to properly absorb the scene.

His body was slumped over in the middle of the room, a shard of glass sticking out of his throat. Moving outward, swirling in a clockwise direction, were symbols that I couldn't begin to make out, all of them written in blood. That steady spiral of symbols took up the entire floor and some of the walls. It all ended at the body, but it began at his bed, where a photo of his family was tipped over and broken.

In a daze, I looked at the photo. Bloody fingerprints lined the edges and smeared out the faces of his wife and son. My head had started to ache when I flipped the picture over. On the back, he had written one word:

_Someday._

I don't remember much after that. The medics came and someone helped me back to my room. I've had nightmares ever since. And, you know, that's the funny thing! I've had that damned picture in my pocket ever since we found Vancil, and I keep turning it over to read that word on the back.

Even now, all that pops into my head is _Someday_. But I can't... I can't really read it. It's written in those same, strange symbols that Vancil had marked up his room with. The symbols make sense, but I don't even know what they are!

Why the fuck can I read this!


	5. The Unearthing

**The Unearthing**

The Marker's gone. Everyone in the colony is losing their mind over it. I've seen dozens of people crying their eyes out in the hallways, mumbling prayers or just outright begging for the thing to be brought back. One woman attacked a guard, blaming him for its disappearance, and she ended up being dragged off to the infirmary, kicking and screaming loads of gibberish.

No one knows what happened, though it wouldn't be a stretch to think the _Ishimura_'s landing crew might've had something to do with it. They've been all over the Marker since they dropped into orbit, and I never saw a one of them leave that hanger since they arrived. I know they took it. Not quite sure why, but I don't much care at this point. Everyone here is better off without it.

Hell, I'm sure if they'd left the thing here, most of these people wouldn't want to leave. It was hard enough just getting them out of the hangar in time for the landing crew's arrival.

Good riddance. I've had just about enough of this.

–

Despite the dissent, the cracking is on schedule to go down in a few days. Technically speaking, the _Ishimura_ has no real need of us anymore. Unless something goes wrong with the gravity tethers or the anchors, which never happens, all that's really expected of us is that we sit back and watch that chunk of rock get airborne. After all the shit that's gone down, that's something I'll do gladly.

I wish Vancil was here. Despite everything, he really did love this part of his job: to watch the big payoff. We shared a beer once while a planet crack took place. It was our Hanukkah, Christmas, and Night of Wisdom, all in one glorious day when the horizon disappeared into the sky.

Thinking back gives me a headache. I just want to go home.

–

Can't sleep. The nightmares are getting worse. I'm so damn tired, but every time I close my eyes something shocks me awake. The darkness in my room gets more intense, and suddenly I'm not in my room anymore. My face is pressed up against the goddamn Marker, and I can see the symbols playing across it, clear as day. Some of them make sense. I know they do. When I wake up, I can't remember what they say.

I feel sick all the time, nauseous, and I'm always on the verge of passing out. I feel limp, and I always have a cold sweat going on. Saw the doctor earlier this week and she recommended sleep. Go figure. I'm gonna try her again tomorrow to see if she has any meds she can put me on. One good night of sleep is all I need.

–

Spoke to Chief Foreman Barrow today, however briefly. Most of my work has been under his supervision, so we've been on good terms for years now. I wish I hadn't caught him when he was busy; he's taking a shuttle out to prospect a few areas to the west to see if this planet's still viable for future cracking. He wanted to get it done while the equipment he needed wasn't in use, so he'll be missing the crack.

"They're will be others," he explained. "If you've seen one, you've seen 'em all."

I asked him how things were going in general, hoping he'd confide _something_ in me, after all this business with the Marker.

But Barrow didn't have to even guess what I was really asking. "It's all out of my hands," he said and brushed his hands together. "People losing their minds over the damned thing doesn't involve me."

"Did the landing crew take it up to the _Ishimura_?"

Barrow looked over his shoulder, but he didn't seem very concerned, like he was fast approaching the point of not caring. "They did. Hauled it away before they got my approval. Literally swiped it right out of the hangar bay."

"Are you serious?"

"Very. I've already sent a message to the home office but, you know, what's a formal complaint gonna do in the middle of an illegal operation?" Barrow shrugged. "Hopefully, people will wake up and get back to work until we're off this rock."

"I just can't believe they'd do something like that."

"Well, I can." He leaned in a little closer. "I was stationed aboard the _Ishimura_ for a time. I knew Ben Matthius before he was promoted to captain. He had Altman on the brain every time I spoke to him, didn't matter which end of the galaxy we were on. He's taking that thing back to Earth, back to the church, and I'll bet you every credit on my paycheck that he takes all the credit for it."

Perhaps seeing my shock, Barrow nodded and added, "I can hear you thinking and I agree. I'd like to take that shuttle up there and punch his lights out for pulling this on my watch, but..." He sighed and shrugged again. "Them's the breaks."

He shook my hand firmly and told me he had to go say goodbye to his wife before he left. It was refreshing to hear someone high up give me the real details instead of talking points or hyperbole. The job always has every reason to go right when Barrow's in charge.

–

Celebrations are definitely in order, because the planet crack went off without a hitch!

Well, almost. The tremor caused a blackout in the colony, but we've got emergency power running okay. We're not bumping into each other in the dark, which is definitely a good thing. The cracks always knock something out, so this time it had to be the generators. I'd offer my help in fixing them, but the generator facility is on the other end of the colony, and there's the matter of the massive hole in the middle of the operation now.

Nope, I think I'll just invite Estrella over and see if she's up for another bottle of champagne. (If she can find her way over here in the dark!) We'll hear the composite analysis in a few days, then we're off this rock a few more days after that. If we can get comms back up in time, that is.

I can hear screaming outside. Some people get way too excited over these things.


	6. The Approach

**The Approach**

Today I heard something that I hope I'll never hear again: the loud snap/shut of an emergency bulkhead door slamming into place somewhere in the dark, effectively sealing off an entire wing of the colony. We crowded around the door, various light sources in hand, confused and angry. None of the guards had dared show themselves, but we did eventually get corralled by an entire P-Sec unit, guns loaded with live ammo aimed directly at the crowd.

The commander of the unit—whoever he was; I'd never seen him before—stood in the gap between the crowd and his almost-soldiers and shouted above the chaos until everyone listened. "Section F-14 has been sealed off until further notice. This is not a matter that can be contested or repealed, so don't bother filing a complaint. If you have friends or family in the affected area, we ask you to remain calm and know what we're working to set up a line of communication to personnel on the other side.

"But this door will not be opened until we've determined the nature of the contaminant on the other end. It could be a false alarm, but I don't want to get any hopes up. You'll be helping your friends, family and coworkers by remaining calm and allowing colonial staff to go about their duties without conflict."

He motioned everyone away, but in that entire speech, he hadn't given one answer, and everyone knew it.

"Why was the bulkhead closed off!" someone yelled, which kicked off a series of similar questions from the crowd all at once.

The commander seemed to get a little impatient, as if he thought his speech should've been enough. "We believe that a biological contaminant was released as a result of the planet crack earlier today. Everyone who went through the old safety debriefing knows what this could mean, and that it could be something as small as a busted air filter. Until the investigation has progressed, we won't know much more than that."

There was more shouting, most of it hysterical, and then one man's voice drowned out the rest: "We should have never let them take the Marker! We are being punished for letting the infidels remove it from this world!" The mob roared in response. "We will all pay for this!"

I could see where this was going, so I backed away.

"Stand down!" the commander shouted. "Stand down right now and return to your rooms!"

And that's exactly what I did. It was out of our hands, so I decided to check myself out of that particular conflict; and conflict there was. I just can't believe that now, of all times, things are starting to fall apart. We are so close to getting off this rock.

—

I just found out that Estrella was among the people sealed off in Section F-14. I've already applied to have comm time when the lines are opened, but I'm sure family will have priority, and who knows how far down the list I am. I've sent a message to her private terminal. Hoping she might have a way to access it in quarantine.

She doesn't even live in that part of the colony. I can't believe she ended up there.

—

The screaming I heard after the planet crack hasn't gone away, but I just don't know where the hell it's coming from. I've checked the halls, talked to all my neighbors, and even popped outside. Nothing.

Whispers, too. Like someone's talking to me from just around the corner, but it never gets louder when I follow it. Stupid me, I nearly followed it all the way to the mess hall. The other workers would think I've gone insane if they knew why I've been wandering the wing today.

—

The voices and the screams get a touch louder when I put my ear flat against the air vent. I'm always on the verge of hearing what's in the whispers, but they never make sense. They just keep going and they won't fucking stop.

—

Finally decided to check myself in to the infirmary, just to see if they could give me something to knock myself out, but the door was sealed shut. It wasn't locked, because the padlock was green, but it wouldn't budge. I knocked and kicked at it to see if I could get a response from the other side. All I heard was... I don't know, it kinda sounded like laughing. I waited around to see if a guard would pass by, but no one did.

In fact, I don't remember seeing anyone on the way there or back. And I think the darkness and the dim emergency lights are starting to play tricks on me, because I kept seeing things pacing around out there in the halls, always just out of reach.

I called out to them, but all they did was smile and take a slow step back into the darkness.

It didn't bother me so much when it happened, but thinking back on it, I'm fucking scared out of my mind. I want to go check in with my neighbors, but I'm hearing gunshots every now and then, and those things in the shadows have me shaking so badly I can hardly type.

—

They followed me into my room. And they won't stop smiling.


	7. The Descent

**The Descent**

i saw a shuttle trying to take off from the northern wing of the colony. It hung there just above one of the gravity tethers, pinned to the sky, and then fell back to the earth. The explosion ripped the northern wing apart and knocked out whatever remained of the emergency power. The only light i'm getting is from the window, from Aegis, but its never enough to scatter the figures I keep seeing.

They just keep standing there, smiling. I know they look familiar, but i don't want to say their names. They're not here. They can't be. And they have no reason to be so goddamned happy.

Since the emergency power's out, the air's stopped circulating, and the only thing that comes through the vents is some foul-smelling gas that makes me retch. I plugged up the vent, but it doesn't help much.

The whispers, the headaches, the nightmares: they're all getting worse.

The screams have stopped.

—

There are footsteps outside my door but they dont sound right. They dont sound like boots or bare feet. Sharp clicks and scraping like fingernails against glass. there's loud breathing two. Labored. It sounds like what ever's out there is having trouble just staying alive

it makes me want to open the door and help but I cant. i cant open the door and i shouldnt leave the room

the smiles stop when i think those thoughts

—

_This is what you wanted for me! This is the life you wanted me to lead! You knew nothing and I told you so! I told you! I'll pay for this, you know. I'll pay for this, over and over! For both of us!_

—

the ishimura is still up there

like an indifferent star

a blind god

theyre watching us suffer

right now

but they wont come back

why oh why wont they come back

—

if we had just listened, we wouldnt be out here in the first place. And now i'm going crazy arent I?

—

_[Input unrecognizable. Auto-correcting to closest known symbols...]_

_[Working...]_

_[Uploaded.]_

m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3? br34|{7h3h34r70ƒ7h3w0r£Ð 4nÐw47(h4££µp0n 17 $µƒƒ3r ƒ0r71m3µnÐ3nÐ1n9 7h3r3(4nb3n0p34(3 wh3n$74r9423r$7r3$p4$$ wh3r3 n0n3$h0µ£Ð3v3r3 7r34Ð ¥0µ7r13Ð70µnÐ3r$74nÐ $0m37h1n97h47$h0µ£Ðn3v3r h4v3b33n µn34r7h3Ð4nÐ 70¥3Ðw17h$0m37h1n97h47 1$ n070ƒ¥0µrm4|{1n9 7h3r3w1££b3 4 Ð4r|{n3$$n0w7h470n£¥ 0n3 w1££b34b£3 70$70p 4nÐÐ347hw1££r319nƒ0r ƒ4r£0n93r7h4n 17 3v3r$h0µ£Ðh4v3 7h394£4x¥w1££Ð4r|{3n4nÐ7h3 $74r$$w1££ƒ4££4nÐ 4££w1££p4¥ 49r347pr1(3 ƒ0r 4n19n0r4n7ƒ3w £00|{1n$1Ð3¥0µr$3£v3$ ƒ0r£19h71n7h3 (0m1n9Ð4¥$ƒ0r17 w1££b34££7h47(4r3$70 9µ1Ð3¥0µ £1v3wh1£3¥0µ(4n 4nÐ$h0µ£Ð¥0µw347h3r7h3Ð4r|{n3$$ 74|{3$0£4(34m0n9$77h34$h3$ 7h3nµmb3r0ƒ ¥0µrƒ473 1$ $1xƒ0µr733n? m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3 m4|{3µ$wh0£3

—

When ya call me that, _smile_!


	8. The Fall

**The Fall**

So, I've talked it over with Vancil, and we've decided that I'm definitely _not_ crazy. Disturbed, perhaps, but there's a difference. He knows that I've been through a lot, seen some things that no one in their right mind should ever be allowed to see in a lifetime. It made me feel _a lot_ better, I tell you. He was always so good at telling someone exactly what they needed to hear. In the past, that required that he come out of his shell first, which was a challenge in itself.

Ha! Got a laugh out of him.

It's tough to breathe in here now. There's this stuff that feels like raw meat growing out of the air vent, and every time I look up at it, it's nearly doubled in size. Every time. It's kinda creepy, but Vancil doesn't seem frightened so I don't think I need to be either.

He tells me that things are gonna get bad. Really bad, and that he thinks I shouldn't be around to see it. He says he would feel terrible if one of those _things_ got in here and hurt me, which is awful nice of him to say so.

I asked him, "Well, what about everyone else? What about Estrella? What about Singh? What about Barrow? The colony wouldn't be too happy with me if I left them high and dry."

He replies that it won't matter. That they're in no real position to mind anymore, which is disappointing to hear. I would've liked to have seen Estrella's smile one more time, shared one more drink with Singh, shake Barrow's hand one more time. Vancil says that Barrow's done something naughty up at the _Ishimura_, so maybe that handshake wouldn't be wise. But still.

There's hope for so many things; I could've lived out my life on any one of those stars hanging in the sky right now, but Vancil says that brand of hope never goes away. That one can live on into their twilight years and still have it lingering on. All that truly matters is how we handle today and embrace the lessons of yesterday. The future is unknown, no matter how much we plan for it.

So there's that.

Heh. I can see Estrella walking around outside my window. For some reason, I remember her having a jaw, and those blades jutting out of her back are new. Not so sure I should let her in now. She looks angry.

In closing, I have very little add. I would hope—and Vancil agrees—that the CEC leaves the location of this place buried. We both know they won't, but hoping against chance is pretty much all I have left in me. There are things that should stay buried. Things that don't need to be understood.

The number of our fate is six-fourteen. And there is only one who can send the Dark retreating back into the core of all forbidden things. I can't see his face, but Vancil says this man will have to do more than try; he will have to succeed. There is little room in this fight for good intentions alone. They must not be allowed to become whole.

To this man, _[Auto-correcting...]:_ _Issac_, there's only so much I can do for you, but I wish you all the best.

Good luck.

That's it, I'm ready, Vancil. Lead the way.

_[Warning: Flatline.]_

_[RIG failsafe engaged.]_

_[Autosaving...]_

_[Text log created.]_


End file.
